


My Courageous Stand

by RumCove



Series: My Hypocritical Hippocrates [2]
Category: Scrubs (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, JD's a total power bottom, M/M, Perry continues to constantly kid himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28883061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RumCove/pseuds/RumCove
Summary: Doctor Cox and JD's new relationship is going well, to the surprise of both of them. There's a few barriers; the fact they initially hooked up because Perry caught JD in a compromising position with a patient surprisingly being the most surmountable. More difficult is Perry being an emotionally constipated bastard who can only admit how he feels when JD is asleep. JD being very closeted and terrified of bad reactions after a very unpleasant childhood experience doesn't help. And JD's goddamn friends are the absolute worst.A trip away is the obvious solution.Sequel to 'My Broken Oath'. Cavity-inducing fluff awaits.
Relationships: Perry Cox/John "JD" Dorian
Series: My Hypocritical Hippocrates [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118183
Comments: 24
Kudos: 54





	My Courageous Stand

**Author's Note:**

> Right... so, for one thing, this is fluffy. I feel I should add a fluff warning. If you are allergic to fluff then this'll kill you. Dead. Within about five minutes. It was always going to be quite fluffy, but after completing and posting 'My Fellow Omegas', it became a lot fluffier because that was so traumatic.
> 
> You'll notice I've now created a series for these ones! 'My Hypocritical Hippocrates' is encapsulating this and 'My Broken Oath'. Will there be more? Probably. Almost certainly. I love these two idiots.
> 
> Conversely to 'My Broken Oath', this is more of a Perry fic; we got more of a JD focus in the last one and this one's a bit more from Perry's viewpoint, although we do have my usual back and forth POV going on.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**My Courageous Stand**

**By RumCove**

Disclaimer: Scrubs original characters belong to Bill Lawrence and NBC/ABC/Doozer Productions etc. Basically, not owned by me. I own my OCs.

ἐπὶ δηλήσει δὲ καὶ ἀδικίῃ εἴρξειν _(Greek: to abstain from doing harm)_

_Primum non nocere_ _(classical Latin: first, do no harm)_

_Modern interpretation: the second medical principle of nonmaleficence_

That first night was perfect.

Honestly. I mean, I don’t say things like that easily. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever said anything has been perfect before. Except possibly sarcastically.

So yeah yeah, Perry Cox just said that. Whatever. Shut up.

It was though. Considering it was the culmination in my walking in on Newbie being screwed by one of the patients, resulting in one hell of a jealousy surge, followed by an incredibly strong urge to use it to manipulate him into having sex with _me_ , followed by a very odd sexual encounter where my admitting aforementioned bastard qualities seemed to turn him on… well, even despite all that, that night was perfect. Even though the weird sex made him cry and eventually admit that he was so uncomfortable with his sexuality because his step-father once nearly murdered him because of it.

Because getting through all that shit was important. And things still aren’t exactly ideal, but they’re a hell of a lot better than they were.

He fell asleep against my chest and for once I didn’t find the proximity of another human being hot and annoying. It felt comforting. It felt… right.

Unfortunately I woke up at around 0500 the following morning feeling ridiculously warm. I initially thought it was just the whole ‘proximity to another human’ thing, but a glance at JD told me otherwise. He was flushed and sweating. I sighed softly. This is why you don’t stand in the pouring rain for long periods of time. You moron.

I won’t lie, I was tempted to just kick him out the bed and go back to sleep. Unfortunately, Newbie brings out the best (or maybe the worst, depending on how you look at it) characteristics in me. I pulled the cover off of him and then went to get paracetamol, water and a cool cloth.

He’d groaned softly when I’d mopped the cloth over his brow and then fluttered his ridiculous eyelashes open to gaze up at me despondently.

“I feel terrible.”

“I guessed by you waking me up by apparently turning into a small but beautifully proportioned nuclear reactor during the night. Drink this.”

He obligingly sat up and took the paracetamol and drained the water, before slumping back onto the pillows.

“Oh God, I’m dying. Have you given me super crabs or something?”

I lifted an eyebrow at him. “One of us – who was _nahwt_ me – has recently had sex with someone who had a goddamn rash on their genitalia. Don’t you dare, Newb.”

“It wasn’t rashy any more…”

He rolled over onto his face and – I’m relatively certain – muttered “Cox crabs” into the pillow.

\- - - - -

Newbie lay about being useless most of the next day. Both of us were off shift and so I brought him various soups and drinks to keep him hydrated and generally acted like his goddamn maid.

To be fair, he was extremely apologetic about it and promised to not stand stupidly in the rain any more. I don’t trust this promise in the slightest, the kid’s a total idiot and will probably stand in the rain within roughly one month in the hope of watching a rainbow form. Most of my patients aren’t in much of a state to be apologetic or thankful, so I guess it was kinda nice.

Also, he lay on the sofa with me, wrapped in a blanket and watching baseball.

Admittedly, he repeatedly informed me it was boring and he’d rather watch a sitcom, but he did actually watch it and occasionally make enough comments on the game to make me suspect his ignorance about sports is maybe more of an act than I realized.

The only negative – I mean, apart from him being sick, because obviously I didn’t enjoy looking after him in the _slightest_ – was that his damn cell phone kept chiming. On the fifth annoying chirp in an hour I gave him an angry look and asked who the hell kept messaging him. He gave me an embarrassed glance in response.

“Turk.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, of course, Gandhi. I forgot the two of you can’t physically be apart for more than ten hours without suffering severe issues. Is this not from the goddamn rain, Newbie, are you having withdrawal or something?”

“No…”

“Why the hell is he messaging you all the time?”

“He was asking why I didn’t come home.”

“And you saaaiiiidddd…?” I drawled it out, relatively certain I wasn’t going to like the answer.

He shrugged and tried to wriggle off of me. I caught him ridiculously easily and then pulled his cell phone out of his hand. He squeaked at me, affronted, as I scrolled through his recent conversation with his husband:

 **Chocolate Bear (10:22):** Hey VB! Where you at? You ok? You didn’t come home last night. You been up to a lil’ somethin’-somethin’ with a certain lady?

 **Me (10:54):** Hey man. Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. I’m fine.

 **Chocolate Bear (10:55):** Oh no you don’t. Answer the question.

 **Me (11:01):** No.

 **Chocolate Bear (11:01):** No what? No, you won’t answer the question?

 **Me (11:02):** No, I wasn’t up to a lil’ somethin’-somethin’ with a certain lady.

 **Chocolate Bear (11:03):** Then where are you? Why you out? Dude, you know you only stay out because of work and chicks and I know you weren’t working late last night. Is it Elliot?

 **Me (11:10):** No.

 **Chocolate Bear (11:11):** Well, who then? You’ve been utterly miserable for the last week, some girl got under your skin? You score with her last night?

 **Me (11:20):** Okay, fine. Yes.

 **Chocolate Bear (11:20):** I KNEW it man! I always know when the J-Dog is getting lucky! Who is she?

 **Me (11:25):** No one you know.

 **Chocolate Bear (11:27):** Aw, come on man.

 **Me (11:30):** Just some girl.

I chucked his cell back at him.

“Just some girl?”

“What would you prefer I say? ‘Hey Turk, sorry I didn’t come home last night, Doctor Cox was giving me a blow job in his shower’?”

“What did I say about you getting out of this damn holding pattern, Newbie?”

He rolled onto his face and sprawled out over my chest. “Not nowwww.”

I prodded him through the blanket and he sighed and lifted his head to look up at me. “What?”

“Do you seriously think this will impact on Gandhi’s ridiculously overblown affection for you?”

He sighed again and then wriggled up my chest to gently kiss me. I wrapped an arm around his waist and then slid my hand under the blanket, where he was warm and naked and his skin felt velvety soft.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” I growled against his lips. He’d pulled back and smiled at me, which seemed to make me automatically stroke his flushed face.

“And you’re sick.” I added. Lamely, considering I was squeezing the firm muscle of his ass at the time.

“Hm, yeah. You know what that means?”

“What?”

He grinned at me. “I need rest and lots of fluids.”

\- - - - -

That was a month ago. And, on the positive side, this damn unholy alliance has demonstrated it’s got legs. Newbie’s stayed over probably one night out of every three on average and the sex has gone from strength to strength. He’s a damn inventive and aggressive little bastard and absolutely shameless when he’s turned on. I’m pretty sure I’ve had the most intense orgasms of my life over the last few weeks.

Surprisingly, that’s not all I’ve enjoyed. However annoying Newbie can be, he’s genuinely good company when he’s relaxed and not desperately trying to get my approval. He also makes ridiculously good omelettes.

And… and I know my feelings for the little bastard are deepening. Getting more complex, more intense. And that’s not just the sex. That’s the soft, panting noises he makes when he’s close to orgasming, the way his eyelashes flutter when he’s edging over. The taste of his lips. How he moans my name. The way he always lies with his head against my shoulder and strokes my side with a feather-light touch, even when I tell him to back off Newbie, I don’t snuggle.

It’s lying in bed at night, listening to his gentle, even breathing. Holding him and carefully stroking the light scar on his right arm where it was broken years ago after a fall down a staircase. Nuzzling his hair, kissing his ear and whispering things to him I wouldn’t dare tell him if he was awake.

Enough of that shit. Anyway, like I said, those are the positives. There’s definitely negatives.

The major one is he’s still utterly incapable of dealing with his own damn emotions. I wish I could say he was just being a coward and not trying, but he actually _is_. He’s managed to accept it himself – something I suspect is a huge step forward for him – but his attempts to get further than that all seem to stall, which inevitably upset him.

We went to see a movie together a few weeks ago. Just some movie, something he wanted to see. About an hour in, I felt his hand resting on mine. I initially thought he was trying to initiate sex in a public place, but then realized he was just holding my hand.

It was a shock, which is obviously odd. For most people if the person they spend one out of three nights screwing holds their hand they’d assume it was an affectionate gesture, rather than an attempt to do something illegal in most states. But Newbie and I aren’t exactly normal.

I’d smiled at him and entwined my fingers with his, rubbing a thumb soothingly over his. I knew what he was trying to do. I appreciated the gesture.

Newbie seemed to like it as well, giving me a swift smile and settling down for the rest of the movie, continuing to hold my hand. We’d walked out of there, still holding hands and back towards the Porsche. I’d felt a jump of pride in him, knowing this was something that made him uncomfortable, knowing this was him trying. Trying because I’d asked him to.

All that happened to make Newbie drop my hand like it had scalded him was a couple walking past who glanced at our entwined hands. They didn’t say anything, didn’t react – in fact, I’m pretty sure the woman smiled at us – but JD seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing and released my hand and shoved his own into his hoodie pockets. He’d muttered “cold” to me and been uncharacteristically quiet during the drive back. When I dropped him off at his place he wouldn’t meet my eye, wished me good night in a dull voice and hurried off.

He’d rejected any suggestions of going anywhere together after that.

That’s caused another issue. Newbie is – unfortunately – a romantic. He’s a _dater_. And we don’t date and I’m pretty certain he’s not happy about that.

As described previously, _he’s_ the reason we don’t do that. I don’t necessarily feel the need to go out and eat dinner or go ice skating or whatever the hell a Newbie date would involve, but I’m not _against_ it. He’s the one who’s got the issue.

And he knows that and it’s making him unhappy. Stalling again.

We just spend time at my apartment. Having sex. Watching movies or sports. Occasionally cooking together. It’s… it’s nice. It actually is. But it feels tawdry somehow. There’s an element of shame or something nefarious about it. I don’t want him to feel that way about the two of us.

We never go to his place. Obviously.

And, lastly, there’s his goddamn friends.

Gandhi was apparently delighted that Newbie was hooking up with some unidentified girl. Even though JD pretty clearly – both in his messages and when he’s forced into speaking about it – doesn’t want to go into details, Gandhi keeps trying to draw him on it. He keeps insisting that JD is a ‘playa’ and asking when they’ll meet ‘her’.

Obviously that just makes Newbie feel worse. Even Carla joins in sometimes. Barbie gives him slightly resentful glances that piss me off.

There’s a very angry part of me that wants to tell them to fuck off and leave him the hell alone. And Barbie, stop damn well looking at him like that, he’s mine. Not your fuck toy any more.

I likely find this more difficult that him. Which might explain why I roughly grabbed his arm earlier and dragged him into the cafeteria. And why we’re now sat opposite one another eating lunch in relative silence, JD shooting nervous glances at me every so often.

“Perry,” he says it softly, gently. “What’s wrong?”

And, of course, he knows something’s up. He always does, he did before and he can read me even better now after spending so much time with me. I shrug.

“Nothing. Just wanted to have lunch with you.”

I press my knee against his under the table briefly. He gives me a smile in response. “You know how weird this looks?”

“We eat together sometimes.”

He snorts. “Only when I trick you into it.”

“Or when we’re talking about a patient.”

“None of the patients are exactly cases we need to discuss too much. Quite an easy run, actually.”

They aren’t really, some have been pretty difficult cases. His diagnostics are getting better. Kid knows what he’s doing. Getting damn good at it, actually.

“Hey, Newb…?”

“Yeah?”

“I got an email this morning. From that beach place, offering discounts to medical professionals.”

“Oh. Yeah, I got that too. It’s because it’s off season, right? They send them and claim it’s to help hard-working doctors and nurses, but really it’s because there’s no tourists and they need to let the rooms.”

“How cynical.”

He grins at me. “Must be the company I’m keeping.”

I smirk back. “Probably. Anyway, you up to helping out a corporate tourist business pretending they want to help hard-working doctors and nurses?”

He pales slightly. “You mean… go stay there?”

I shrug. “Yeah. It looks nice, right? They’re little beach chalets, pretty private.”

He’s looking at me with misgiving. I lift my eyebrows and add: “Also, it’s a good three hour drive from here and pretty secluded.”

_Say yes, say yes, say yes, come on Newbie, you can do this._

“I… I’m trying.”

I know my expression softens when he says this. I reply quietly: “I know, Newbie.”

“I _really_ am. I want this to work, you know that, right?”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“It’s just… it’s really hard.”

“I know. That’s why I thought this’d be a good idea. Baby steps.”

He gives me a look of such gratitude that it nearly hurts. He looks beautiful, sat there in the autumnal light, his dark hair seeming to absorb the fall colors and gleam with a nearly reddish hue. He smiles suddenly and he looks beyond beautiful, looks… other-worldly.

“Thank you. You’re being so… so kind.”

I growl at him, embarrassed. “I just love a bargain. And maybe I have a huge desire to fuck you in sand.”

“Nobody likes fucking in sand, it gets _everywhere_.” He grins at me, then seems to think for a minute before adding: “Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’d… it’d be nice.”

He smiles at me shyly. I know I have a ridiculous, shit-eating grin on my face, but I don’t give a damn.

“Great. I was thinking maybe next Thursday, we’re both off shif-“

“Vanilla Bear! Where have you _been_ , man?”

Gandhi suddenly throws himself down next to JD, his lunch tray clattering loudly on the table. Newbie immediately stops his sweet, shy smile from a moment ago and the knee that was pressing against mine has suddenly gone. I glower at Gandhi, who, as usual, ignores my trying to intimidate him completely.

“Oh, hey Turk.”

Gandhi’s arm has gone around Newbie’s shoulders and I have to stop myself from fixedly staring at it.

“Hey man. What’s up?”

“Oh, Doctor Cox and I were just discussing a patient, Mr Atlassa. He’s not responding well to medication for kidney failure and-“

“Just cut it out, dude. Easy.”

Newbie frowns. “It’s failing, not _failed_.”

“What’s the problem? He’s got another one,”

“Nahwt quite that simple, jackass,” I growl.

“Anyway, why are you worrying about _that_? The biggest mystery at the minute is who JD’s secret girl is, amiright?”

Oh, for God’s sake. I mean, does Gandhi actually know Newbie’s into guys as well as girls? I feel like he’s overcompensating so much that it dwarfs JD’s issues completely. I glare at him.

“Shockingly, no. Since I don’t give a crap about some mystery girl and Newbie presumably knows who the hell is moronic enough to desire that doughy, pale physique.”

I hate Gandhi even more now because I _had_ to say that. And he’s not. He really isn’t. He’s gorgeous naked, completely stunning. In the dark or half-light his skin’s like driven snow, smooth, firm and flawless. Contrasting so sharply with that inky hair and those sparkling blue eyes.

Made even more breath-taking when he grins that grin, predatory and expectant. Wanting to play.

Oh, dammit. I’ve got an erection now. I stare angrily at Gandhi, in the hope that seeing his stupid face might make it subside.

“Man, how can you deal with this guy being such an asshole all the time?”

Oh my God, Newbie just blushed. Gandhi, being Gandhi, misses it completely and continues with: “I swear, if Doctor Wen treated me like that I’d be _outta_ there.”

“Oh, you’d be as up his ass as you always are Gandhi, don’t start claiming that bullshit.”

Newbie’s gone even redder, presumably since I was literally up his ass a few hours ago when we were engaging in some sex in my kitchen, him bent over the worksurface and furiously demanding I fuck him until he comes all over the electric hob.

He did as well.

Also, he had an odd kink about me wearing an apron while I did it. I didn’t ask any questions, it seemed safer that way.

This is not doing anything to help the goddamn erection get the hell out of dodge.

“You should just lay off him, man.”

I was laying on him last night. He seemed to enjoy it, his face flushed and moaning in pleasure as I took him, legs wrapped around my waist.

I really need to stop thinking about sex. I keep zoning out, nearly as badly as Newbie does. Someone’ll notice and then-

And then… what? Seriously? I’m not the one with the problem.

I glance over at Newbie and feel a stab of annoyance. He’s looking at me with a worried expression and I can’t read that. I’ve no idea if he’s worried about me or about what I could say or what I could give away.

I _told_ him. I told the little bastard that just because he had issues accepting himself didn’t mean I was getting dragged into it. I’m not ashamed and I’m not doing that shit for anyone.

Or that’s what I said to him. But it seems I will do that shit for him. It seems if he inflicts that crap on me I’ll take it.

I know he doesn’t want to do it, I know he’s trying.

But goddamn it, this is pissing me off. I can deal with that, can deal with JD doing this – as long as I don’t have to deal with any of this other shit. Particularly _Gandhi_.

I lift my eyebrows at him and then stand up abruptly, my chair shrieking on the linoleum floor. “I wasn’t doing anything to him, jackass. But you have your goddamn lunch, I’m going to do some work.”

I stalk off, swallowing down the guilt at the fraught expression on Newbie’s face.

_Dammit._

\- - - - -

I watch Doctor Cox retreating, the guilt and frustration coiling through my stomach. He’s upset. I know he’s upset and if I could just get over this pathetic issue I have then he wouldn’t need to be.

“God, what a dick,” Turk’s watching him leave as well. I feel sadness add to the emotions wriggling through my guts. I know if Perry was around he’d be smirking and I’d go red at that phrase, but I can’t even bring myself to snigger at the single entendre.

I hate myself. I really do. Why the hell can’t I just… just accept it? Just say to Turk to get lost and let us have lunch in peace and enjoy our weird passive-aggressive innuendo-laden discussions that sound cruel to an outsider. He was… he was really trying. Trying to help me get past it, helping me take these baby steps that I shouldn’t even need help to take. I mean, I’m an adult, I should have dealt with all this shit when I was a teenager, not _now_. Even if you ignore the (horrible, don’t think about it) extenuating circumstances, I should have gotten over it by now.

And that whole beach chalet thing… that was _sweet_. That was actually sweet, even if he did sort of cover it afterwards. He was accepting that I was having problems and trying to help me get through them.

He told me he wasn’t going to do this, that he wasn’t going to let my shitty issues impact on him.

But he has. Why has he done that? Why hasn’t he just walked away?

“Don’t talk to him like that,” I mutter to Turk. “He’s not-“

“Dude, you seriously need to stop defending him. Cox is an ass. I know you’ve got that mentor complex thing with him, but-“

“It’s not a mentor complex, Turk. I _like_ him.”

I hold my breath when I realize what I’ve said. Of course, I know I more than like him. Way more than just _like_ him. But I just said that to Turk.

To my surprise Turk rolls his eyes. “You like everyone, JD.”

I blink. I just basically blurted out what I’ve been terrified of saying to Turk and he… did he just ignore it? That was pretty obvious, right? That wasn’t ‘I like him’, it was ‘I _like_ him’. There’s a whole world of difference there.

I take a deep breath. “No, Turk, I mean I really _like_ -“

He’s not listening, apparently preoccupied. “Also, why the hell are you talking to him at lunch anyway? You aren’t working.”

“Because I enjoy his company.” I say it flatly, my eyes slightly narrowed.

“Yeah, right. I guess he’s kinda funny sometimes. Anyway…” he prods me in the shoulder playfully. “You still going to hold back on telling me who this mystery girl is, huh?”

I desperately want to say ‘it’s him’. But I can’t get the words out. Apparently I’ve used up my quota of courage for today.

Courage I only had because of him. The man that my best friend has just described as a dick and an ass and who I only like because I ‘like everyone’ and have a mentor complex about him. Who I only very lamely defended, despite how much he’s done for me over the last few weeks, how patient he’s been, how willing to put up with my shit.

“Like I said, Turk. You don’t know her.” I say it heavily.

It’s actually almost true. Turk really _doesn’t_ know him.

\- - - - -

Perry is standing in Mr Jones’ room, apparently consulting his chart.

I know he’s not actually reading it though. I can tell from his stance, the tenseness in his shoulders and neck, the way he’s not slightly tilting his head the way he does when he concentrates.

Also because Mr Jones died yesterday and so the room is empty, but I would have known _otherwise_ too.

I quietly walk in and wrap my arms around him, pulling him back against me and pressing a kiss to his temple, his curls pressing against my cheek as I do so. I see his lips quirk slightly in response, an automatic small smile.

He likes these sorts of gestures. He pretends he doesn’t, but I know he does. It’s kind of like how much he protests against snuggling and then I always wake up with him wrapped around me.

“Are the shutters closed?”

I trail my lips across to his ear and mutter into it: “Don’t care.”

He smiles slightly wider, although it’s not an entirely happy smile. He gives me a sidelong glance. “Yes, you do.”

I sigh. “Yes, I do. But I’m trying not to.”

“I know, Newb.”

He briefly presses his nose against my cheek and then pulls away, out of my grasp. I catch his wrist as he tries to distance himself from me and he gives me a surprised look.

“Thank you.”

He frowns at me. “What for?”

“Putting up with all this shit. I don’t know why you do. I’m putting you in a really crappy position and-“

“I’m not anywhere I don’t want to be,” he growls back at me. I shrug at him.

“And for the… the invitation to the coast next Thursday. I’m really looking forward to it.”

He smirks at me. “You’ve gone very formal, Newbie. I feel like I’m talking to an RSVP. Or some elderly lady who-“

I interrupt the inevitable teasing with: “Can I stay over tonight?”

He pauses and the smirk drops off his face. He looks oddly vulnerable. “You stayed over last night. You usually don’t stay over more than one night.”

“I know. And you might have plans, I get that. Just… just I’d like to. To be with you. If you’re free?”

“Of course.”

He kisses me very softly and strokes a hand through my hair. I smile back at him.

And I’m turning off my cell and focusing on what makes him happy, not Turk.

\- - - - -

Newbie arrives at my apartment about fifteen minutes after I do, bringing take out with him and looking inordinately pleased with himself. I lift an eyebrow at him as he beams at me on the threshold.

“What’s this?”

“I’m looking after you.”

He gives me another ridiculously enthusiastic grin which absolutely does _nahwt_ make my insides feel weirdly gelatinous.

“Oh, are you?”

He edges around me into the apartment, kisses my temple and goes into the kitchen to apparently start dishing the food onto plates. Apparently he doesn’t want to eat out of the boxes.

It feels oddly domestic and I try to swallow down the emotion his rather innocent greeting of a kiss on the forehead has created. It’s like his actions earlier, that careful, tender way he was holding me at the hospital, getting me to lean against him and supporting my weight. The way he stopped me from pulling away and could tell without my having to verbalize it that I was having a hard time.

Dammit, what is he doing to me? He’s the _girl_ in this, not me. He’s the one who needs that care and affection, not me. _Him_.

Shut up.

“D’you like spring rolls? I wasn’t sure, you’re so body conscious and they’re basically deep fried heart attacks, but they’re really _good_ deep fried heart attacks, y’know? But I got dim sum too in case you didn’t like the fried stuff and just wanted steamed and then I’ll just eat the little myocardial infarctions, I’m younger than you so I’ll probably survive and-“

I wrap my arms around his waist standing behind him and bury my nose against his neck, for once not hugely wanting to talk. He leans back against me.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” I growl it into his shoulder blade.

“Have you gone all bashful?”

“No,” I mutter and stay with my face buried in his upper back. It’s not bashfulness – little bastard – I’m just tired. I wrap my arms tighter around him and then trail my lips up his neck, feeling him shiver against me and then lean his head to one side to gaze at me, propping his cheek up against my shoulder.

“What’s up?”

I shrug. “Nothing.”

“Hm.” He looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Only… uh, well, only you’re not normally quite this affectionate and-“

I roll my eyes and let go of him quickly, seeing him smirk in response. “I’m not being _affectionate_ , Newbie. Let’s eat this damn tachycardic feast you’ve bought.”

\- - - - -

“I ate too muuuuccchhh…”

Perry glances over at me. “I thought you were joking about eating all the spring rolls.”

“I didn’t eat _all_ of them,” I protest.

“Yeah. Sure. You ate all of them bar one. If you do go into cardiac arrest from it then I’m not giving you CPR, you’ll vomit on me.”

He takes the sting out of this comment by gently massaging my thighs which I’ve thrown over his lap as I sprawl on my back on his sofa in an attempt to encourage myself to digest quicker. I know if I make any attempt to get him to acknowledge the little affectionate gesture he’s making – or that he’s doing it because he just said he’d let me die – then he’ll deny everything.

“What are you grinning about?”

“Nothing,” I grin even wider and he rolls his eyes and then leans over to flick my nose.

“Ow.”

“Good. Stop that shit.”

“What shit?” I attempt to look innocent, which I suspect isn’t convincing considering I’m still grinning like an idiot, despite my stinging nose. (Also, _ow_ , why does he have to do things like that? I’d pretend I’m likely to withhold sex for him doing that, but we both know that’s clearly not going to happen.)

“That. Thinking whatever fluffy shit was going through your mind. I’m not doing whatever it is your little fuzzy chick-lit saturated mind thinks I’m doing.”

“I was thinking you were being an asshole,” I lie.

“Good. Then for once you were correct.”

He negates this again by softly squeezing just under my knee, then absently reaching across to massage the arch of one of my feet. I throw my head back against the arm rest and groan quietly, outstretching one of my arms to stoke along his elbow. He’s wearing a T shirt and the feel of his skin under my fingertips is wonderfully warm and solid. I want to sit up and pull him down on top of me, feel that skin pressed against my entire body, writhe against him, feel his breath against the back of my neck, hitching as he gets closer to orgasm, want-

Stop that. The reason I can’t do that is that if I sit up I might puke and I need to stop thinking about sex. Pretty sure if I get an erection and indigestion then I won’t be in for a good night.

“Newbie, watch the damn movie and stop getting turned on. I’m not fucking you until I’m certain you’re not going to throw up on either me or my goddamn 300 thread count Egyptian cotton bedding.”

“Not turned on…” I mutter. He glances across at me and lifts his eyebrows.

“Oh, really Sandy?”

Oh God, even his eyebrows look sexy, what’s wrong with me? I consider lying and then figure against it.

“Oh, right, so you’re completely unaroused?”

“Newbie, I’m not even sli- _hightly_ turned on right now, I just watched you cram enough Chinese food to feed about five people into yourself.”

I huff quietly and then try to focus on the TV, wriggling a leg slightly in his lap to see if he’s hard or to try to encourage him to get hard. This results in him flicking my nose again and calling me a bad Newbie, so I stop. I try to think of something unappealing – which is actually kinda difficult when I can feel the warmth of him against the back of my thighs – and come up with a blank. My brain randomly conjures up Noah, the patient I did the Very Bad Thing with. He was hot but I still feel incredibly guilty and shitty about that whole thing, which seems to result in my doing a weird sort of sexual flinch.

On the plus side it seems to stop the erection, but makes the indigestion slightly worse.

\- - - - -

Newbie’s fallen asleep on the sofa, his legs still across my lap. I glance over at him and then gently stroke his arm, watching him smile slightly in his sleep in response. I smirk.

He’s so damn easy to manipulate, the little sex pest gets turned on by the smallest gesture. I guess it’s sort of flattering. Kid clearly appreciates what he’s got.

The movie’s finished, reverting back to the menu screen. I carefully lift his legs off of me and tidy up the mess from the take out that he brought with him. He’s still out like a light when I’ve finished and I sigh softly, then scoop him up and carry him through into the bedroom. I deposit him onto the bed and then go brush my teeth. When I come back through from the en suite he’s groggily blinking at me.

“How’d I move?”

“It’s a mystery.”

“Oh.” He seems to accept this as an answer and stares at the ceiling for a moment before yawning hugely. “I’ll go tidy up-“

“It’s done, Rosa. Go back to sleep.”

I’ve stripped off my T shirt and pants and can already sense his eyes trailing over me. “I said go back to sleep, Newbie.”

“But-“

I sit down next to him on the bed and smirk, knowing I’m being a dick and enjoying it. I intentionally tense my abs, seeing his sleepy gaze lingering there.

“If you fall asleep during the floor show you don’t get to enjoy the encore.”

He frowns at me. “How is ‘Unbreakable’ some sort of sexual floor show? That doesn’t make sense.”

I sigh. “You’re tired, Newb. I don’t generally enjoy screwing people who are half asleep, I expect full consciousness to appreciate the gift of this body. Go to sleep.”

He apparently seems to think this makes sense, pulling off his shirt and pants and wriggling under the covers. After I turn off the light he creeps over and butts his head softly against my shoulder.

“I don’t snuggle,” I inform him flatly, wrapping my arms around him. He nods and slides a leg over mine.

“I know you don’t.”

“As long as that’s clear.”

He sighs heavily against me. I initially wonder if he’s sick of my bullshit already, but I’m pretty sure he’s secretly quite fond of it, despite how much he likes to bitch about it.

“What’s up?”

His voice is slightly slurred, sleepy. “I was going to look after you.”

I scoff. “I don’t need _looking after_.”

“I know you don’t. I just wanted to.”

He’s sounding exhausted, clearly about to fall asleep. I kiss his hair.

“Oh yeah? What inspired that, huh?”

“I was trying to focus on making you happy… even turned off my cell…”

I try not to smile in case he senses it. I pull him slightly closer to me instead and trail my hands down his back.

“How were you going to do that?”

He squirms, eyelashes fluttering against my bicep. I’m pretty sure he’s still only mildly conscious because I’m talking to him, otherwise he’d have collapsed back into his fatigued sprawl from earlier.

“Dunno… certainly not by stuffing myself and then falling asleep on you…”

I think about the warm weight of him on me as I watched Bruce Willis and drank scotch, occasionally stroking him or glancing over at him as he peacefully slept.

“Maybe that’s what makes me happy.” I only say it because I’m relatively certain that he’s too out of it to remember me saying that in the morning.

“…din’t even suck you off…”

“Yeah, well, you can do that in the morning.”

“’kay.”

I’ll remind him of that in the morning.

He strokes down my stomach and sighs softly, cuddling closer to me. “Y’ve been so kind to me.”

“No I haven’t, Newbie. You’re just a good lay.”

“Stop lyin’.”

I stare at the ceiling for a moment and then kiss his forehead. “You’re welcome.”

I feel him still next to me for about a minute. It’s an oddly tense motionlessness, not in any way tranquil. He’s gearing himself up for something. I’ve seen him doing that when he’s about to do a new medical procedure, steeling himself.

“I… I…” he trails off and seems to choke.

It doesn’t matter that he can’t say it. It’s like all the rest of this shit he’s trying to work through, it doesn’t matter that he fails sometimes. He’s trying. And him trying is all I can expect of him, hell, even the trying is demonstrating more than I really need. And I know him. When he tries he gets there eventually. He’s a determined little bastard.

“I know. Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

He does as he’s told.

\- - - - -

After Perry insisted I fulfil the promise I apparently made the previous night – which I don’t remember promising, but I wasn’t against doing in the slightest – I ask him about the trip he suggested. He gives me a long-suffering look.

“Newbie, if I’m doing this thing would you _mind_ not interrupting? Or you can go and deal with yourself in the goddamn shower.”

It’s nice that he’s reciprocal.

“Sorry, it’s just-“

“Shut up, Janice.”

He manages to emphasise his point by dropping his head down and swallowing hard around me. I yelp and tangle my hands in his hair, shaking as I feel his tongue lap over me. Only he could make a blow job terrifying.

“Oh God, you’re so good at this…”

He trails a hand up my chest. I initially think he’s still in the weird mood from last night and is being all touchy-feely again and is maybe about to stroke my face lovingly. This is dispelled when he pointedly presses two fingers against my lips, a clear instruction to shut up.

I shut up.

\- - - - -

When he’s stopped panting and pathetically whimpering his thanks to me, Newbie brings up the trip again. I pause in pouring the coffee I’ve just made and look back at him, an annoying spasm of worry running through me.

“I thought we’d agreed on that.”

Fortunately my voice isn’t showing my concern that he’s backing out, I just sound pissed off. That’s pretty standard with me. He looks back at me, bemused.

“Well… I mean, I think we did. I was just wondering if I should book it or what? And I’m guessing we’re going in your car, since you refuse to sit on the back of the scooter.”

I bite down any physical response that shows my relief. “Caroline, I doubt you could manage that ride on your scooter on your own, it’s a three hour ride away. Your ass would be asleep, if not goddamn comatose. We’ll go in the Porsche. And I’ll book it.”

“I can book it,” he pipes up unexpectedly. “I told you, I got that offer too, they must have emailed most of the hospital. I’d worry about my personal data, but I bet Kelso sold the email lists as soon as he got them.”

“I imagine he sells them every year and goes golfing in Hawaii with the proceeds. I’ll book it, Newbie.”

I booked it last night before he arrived here, but I’m not telling him that. He looks oddly affronted. “I don’t want you to pay for everything. I can pay.”

This is like him bringing dinner, I suspect. He’s trying to assert his rather questionable levels of masculinity. Rather than pointing out I get paid more than him, which will inevitably make him have a hissy fit, I shrug. “I’ll get this one. You can get the next one.”

He grins at me. “Okay. But I’m paying you for gas.”

I smirk. “Sure, Newb. I’ll get you to pay in some way for that.”

His grin widens and that predatory look is back, the filthy little lech. “I’d think you’re planning on fucking me over the Porsche, but I know you wouldn’t risk handprints on the paintwork like that.”

“Hm. Remember to pack your gloves, Newbie.”

\- - - - -

When I get into the Porsche passenger seat I make sure Doctor Cox sees what I’m wearing. He snorts softly before driving off away from where he’s been parked waiting for me two blocks away from the apartment.

“Really, Eve?”

“What?” I extend my hands in front of me and grin. “It’s cold.”

“It’s October, Madeline. It’s hardly cold enough for those.”

“They’re fingerless.”

“Yeah, which also means they’ll still leave fingerprint smudges on the paintwork. _Nahwt_ happening, Priscilla.”

I strip off the leather fingerless gloves and roll my eyes at him. “You’re the one who suggested it.”

“I quite often suggest you never talk again and you don’t pick up on that one. I guess that one doesn’t involve your cock though, so you don’t pay much attention to it.”

“I don’t pay attention to _just_ my cock.”

“Sure.”

“I pay quite a bit of attention to your’s too.”

He smirks. “Yeah, you do.”

“So stop complaining. And are you not going to do that? I thought it’d be a good way to break up the journey.”

“Newbie, I swear, it’s like you’re _trying_ to get us arrested for public indecency.”

I roll up the gloves into a ball and then toss them into the footwell. “You’re no fun. Are we not going to go skinny dipping either?”

“Once again Newb, it’s _October_. You really want to splash around in the sea naked?”

Oh. That’s a good point. I wanted to have sex al fresco, but I’m not sure if I fancy that. Also, I have no idea if lube would survive seawater. I suspect not and it’s needed with him, even if he suffers drastic shrinkage from cold water. The lucky bastard.

Or I’m a lucky bastard for being on the receiving end of it. Or something.

Apparently I’ve been quiet too long and he seems to have mistaken this for me being upset about the lack of nautical sex, rather than getting distracted thinking obsessively about his cock.

“Fine, stop sulking. We can go swimming. _Not_ naked though, I’ve already had to look after you when you were sick from standing out in the freezing rain, I’m not planning on looking after you if you get hypothermia either.”

“Maybe you’d get the hypothermia, not me. I’m willing to bet you’ve waxed all your chest hair off again.”

“At least I _have_ it to wax off, Shelley.”

I decide not to argue against this, since he has a point on that.

\- - - - -

After a couple hours drive I pull over by the coast to stretch my legs. Newbie scampers around after me and gives me a hopeful look.

“No, Newb.”

Seriously, it really is like he wants to get arrested. Considering how horrified he is by the idea of anyone finding out his sexual preferences it seems weird he’d be that willing to potentially risk exposure by getting charged with public indecency with another man. But considering some of his ridiculously risky behavior sometimes that sounds about right.

Kid makes no sense.

I stretch, trying to work the knots out of my upper spine.

“You aching?”

“It’s alright.”

“D’you want me to give you a back rub?”

I glance at him sidelong to see if he’s trying to initiate sex again, but for once that sounds like an innocent question. I cup the back of his head and kiss him briefly, lingering with my lips brushing against his.

“I might rain check on that until I’ve finished the drive.”

“Sure,” he beams at me and I’m struck again by how goddamn sweet he can be sometimes. I’d like to say it’s sicky and saccharine, but it’s not. He’s got that filthy, sexually aggressive streak and the kid can turn a snarky phrase with the best of them (mainly me), but it’s balanced with this oddly caring, tender side of him that seems to only come out when he’s half asleep, dropping his guard or worried about me. Like his occasional protective urges or the way he wants to ‘look after’ me sometimes, despite my clearly having no requirement to be looked after or protected. I trail my fingers through the shorter hair at the back of his head and his eyelashes flutter as I do so.

I pull him flush against me and kiss the top of his head. “What did you say to Carla and Gandhi about where you were going today?”

He shrugs. “I was gonna just say I would be out tonight and then run away from Turk’s inevitable questioning, but they weren’t actually in. It was kind of a relief I didn’t have to lie.”

“Oh.” I frown. “Carla wasn’t on shift today or tomorrow, I don’t know about Bowling Ball Head.”

Newbie shrugs. “Maybe they were just out somewhere. Or have taken off for a few days or something, they do sometimes.”

“Without mentioning it?”

“Yeah, they can be quite impulsive sometimes.”

Newbie’s not even glanced back at the road, although I can hear cars driving behind us, is staying looking out at the sea with my arms wrapped around him. He wouldn’t have done this a few weeks ago, would have pulled away and made excuses to not be seen outside like this. I shuffle him around slightly so his back is against my chest and prop my chin up against his shoulder, looking out at the sea. I gently kiss his cheek.

I’m tempted to murmur to him that he’s a good boy or something similar, but I suspect that he’ll just become self-conscious about his behavior if I do that. I just nuzzle his ear instead, but I think he understands what I’m doing because he takes my hand and squeezes it, holding it against his chest and then trailing his fingers over my knuckles.

We stay standing like that for a while, the coastal breeze ruffling past us, the mildly cool air circling around us as we look out at the waves. It’s oddly peaceful and I feel strangely content.

Eventually Newbie breaks the silence with a soft: “You’re right, the water’ll be way too cold for skinny dipping.”

I smirk. “Of course you’ve been thinking about sex.”

He blushes and gives me an embarrassed glance. “Actually it was more… Margaret Mitchell than E. L. James.”

I don’t manage to check my thoughts quick enough to stop myself from thinking it’s rather cute that he’s still too awkward at the idea of our relationship being more than just erotic to just say he was daydreaming about something romantic and so makes a rather weird literary allusion instead.

“What were you thinking of doing?”

He shrugs. “Just… y’know, swimming? I had a look at this place online, there’s some little islands you can swim out to. I was thinking it’d be nice to do that and…”

He trails off. I know he doesn’t mean it, but give him an out if he feels like taking it: “And screw?”

He shakes his head. “No… I was just thinking about that stuff you see in movies, y’know? People kissing on the beach, the waves rolling over them.” He grimaces. “Although that’s probably pretty gross, thinking about it, you’d get seawater up your nose.”

I’m slightly taken aback by that. “You feeling alright, Newb? You’ve said several things within the last couple hours that imply you’re not only interested in me for my physical attributes, which is entirely excusable behavior when your physical attributes looks like mine do.”

“You do know that’s not the only reason, right?”

Oh, he’s being all genuine and honest with me. Maybe it’s because we’ve ventured out somewhere other than the hospital or my apartment. “I know, JD. Just you’re not usually that comfortable discussing it.”

There’s that weird charged silence again where he seems to be trying to say something but can’t get the words out. He sighs after apparently being unable to make whatever comment he was trying to and turns his head to lean it back against my clavicle, his eyes closed.

“We’ll go swimming,” I tell him softly and he opens his eyes to gaze up at me. “Not for long, but let’s do it and then warm back up at the beach chalet, I got one close to the sea.”

I was thinking it was private and he’d appreciate that, but there’s an additional plus point. He smiles at me and my heart squeezes painfully at the look of gratitude on his face. Just because I’m being half decent to him.

“I know what we can do to warm up.”

Ah, there’s the lecherous little bastard again.

\- - - - -

“Oh God, I’m regretting this.”

“Just grow a pair and get in. The sooner you do the quicker you’ll get used to it.”

I glower at him. “I _have_ a pair, as you’ve seen.”

“Not metaphorically you don’t.”

When I still refuse to move Doctor Cox apparently decides to take matters into his own hands – quite literally – by shoving me into the water. I shriek and stagger forward to catch myself, the cold of the water suddenly up over my stomach. I shiver.

“I hope you’re happy. My metaphorical and actual testicles just basically retracted into my body.”

I really regret giving him that backrub earlier. He laughs and wades into the water next to me. I give him an annoyed glance. “Asshole.”

“Suck it up, Newb. To paraphrase you earlier, you’re the one who suggested doing this.”

He abruptly dives forward and starts swimming out into deeper water in a fast front crawl, splashing a load of seawater into my face as he does so. I blink the salty water out of my eyes and give him a suspicious look. He’s wearing speedos and should be absolutely freezing, but is apparently just powering through it. I think he’s an android. It would explain a lot of things.

A wave nearly knocks me over and I growl to myself and then throw myself into the next one, trying not to scream, and scull out after him. It’s that annoying temperature, just warm enough to convince you that eventually it’ll feel alright, but cool enough for the initial plunge to feel extremely unpleasant.

He’s treading water a few yard ahead of me and I swim up to him, then nearly get swept back by the next wave. He grabs my forearm to anchor me and then pulls me closer, wrapping an arm around my back. I’m getting accustomed to the temperature, but he still feels amazingly warm and slippery pressed against me, even if it’s messing up my ability to tread water since I’m worried I’ll kick him. He kisses me softly and I’m so surprised I slip and kick him accidentally.

“That seems uncalled for, Newb.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t expecting to be kissed by you in goggles. I can’t decide if it’s sexy or not.”

He lifts his eyebrows at that and I roll my eyes. “You aren’t sexy _all the time_ , you know.”

“I beg to differ, Sammy.”

I try to think of a time recently when he’s not been sexy and come up with a blank. He was even sexy when he had some spinach stuck in his teeth a few days ago. Oh God, I’ve got it bad.

“Well, you aren’t, alright? That’s my carefully considered sexy – er, I mean _second_ opinion. You look like a supervillain with them on.”

“I’m not taking advice from you, you appear to be wearing the shower shorts again.”

“They are _not_ the shower shorts, they’re totally different.” The shower shorts are red. These are burgundy. “And your hair’s gone all flat.”

“You look like a rat that someone found in a kitchen and drowned in the sink. Then threw out into the rain. And then fell into the sewer. I guess it’s finally washed that goddamn hair product out though.”

The next wave threatens to drag me out of his grip so I wrap my arms and legs around him and cling on, our chests pressed together. I push my forehead against his.

“It’s waterproof.”

He groans and then kisses me hard, cupping the back of my head. I twist my tongue against his, tasting salt and the coffee he had in our room about a half hour ago, bitter and dark. I can feel his muscles tensing and flexing as he keeps us both afloat whilst I hang onto him like a sodden spider monkey. It’s so damn sexy and I tighten my grip around his shoulders as he slides a hand down the back of my shorts and squeezes my ass hard.

Then suddenly we’re apart and there’s a roaring all around me. I briefly get lost about which way is up and then resurface, coughing seawater out of my nose and throat. I scan around and see him about a foot away and grimace.

“Yeah, I was right. Those romantic movies are full of shit.”

\- - - - -

I don’t give Newbie the chance to start whining that getting _out_ of the water is cold and just drag him along after me by the wrist. I can hear him muttering to himself, likely complaining about the cold and that our romantic beach moment was wrecked by a particularly large wave that knocked him out of my grip. It was slightly disconcerting to suddenly be trying to french air and I think he’s sulking that he swallowed a load of seawater.

He coughs theatrically behind me and I roll my eyes. “You’re fine, Jane.”

“It’s all salty.”

“Well, you should have spit not swallowed. I guess you can’t break the habit of a lifetime though.”

He catches up with me in order to glower at me. “Are you complaining?”

I release his wrist to throw an arm around his shoulders and grin at him. “Not on your life, Newberoo.”

I notice him nervously scan around at this gesture, but he doesn’t shrug me off, despite there being a few other idiots on the beach in October. It’s an improvement and I know my grin widens slightly at this.

It drops off my face in shock when he responds by wrapping an arm around my waist and leaning his head against my shoulder. I stumble slightly, not expecting it and slipping on the wet sand, but right myself again and keep walking.

Our chalet’s the closest to the sea, I checked before booking. It’s more secluded and I thought Newbie would want that, although he’s definitely less awkward and worried than I’d been expecting. However, it means this walk is pretty damn quick, even if we’re much further away from the communal breakfast room. I don’t normally bother with hotel breakfasts and just have coffee, but I’ve already seen Newbie excitedly reading the menu. I suspect I’m doomed to have to breakfast tomorrow with someone with the energy of a toddler on a sugar rush, surrounded by other idiots who come to a beach getaway in fall.

Newbie unlocks the door, since his swimwear – which are clearly more of his damn shower shorts, the kid’s an imbecile and they really don’t do anything for his ass – has pockets.

The chalet’s pretty nice, I have to admit. The off-season price made me think I was possibly going to be in a hut, but it’s got the essentials. Coffee machine (obviously), kettle, mini fridge, en suite and an enormous bed with a headboard covered in seashells. Newbie was apparently inspecting these whilst he gave me a backrub earlier and cheerfully told me that he thought they’d been attached with sand cement. I have no idea why he thought I’d want to know that.

“So, how were you thinking about warming up?” I ask him, expecting some filthy game he’s concocted. Whilst he doesn’t always seem wedded to the idea of playing sexual games, he’s usually got some inventive suggestion that makes me wonder what the rating of most of his weird little fantasies are.

Rather than propose that I’ve just rescued him from drowning and he’s thanking me with sex or that he’s caught hypothermia from the water and we need to share body heat, he surprises me again by just kissing me. Apparently he’s using this break to entirely shake my expectations of him.

This is cemented by him whispering “I don’t want to play games, I just want you”.

I push him onto the bed.

\- - - - -

“I don’t want to play games, I just want you,” I honestly tell him. An odd look of surprise runs over his face, followed closely by smouldering arousal. I’m not hugely surprised when he roughly shoves me onto the bed and pounces on top of me, pinning me down and kissing me hard.

I arch my back to press myself against him, the solid mass of him above me and kiss him back fiercely. He groans into my mouth and I use his moment of distraction to wriggle free and then wrap my arms and legs around him the way I was doing in the sea. He’s not expecting to suddenly have my body weight on him and he rolls onto his side. I continue the movement and then sit up, straddling him. He blinks up at me, apparently confused by my being able to flip us over when he’d been pinning me down a second ago.

I lean forward and gently kiss his confused face, carding my hands through his hair and tenderly stroking down his ears before I sit up again. He levers himself up on his elbows and looks at me with interest.

Perry Cox is – it turns out – full of bullshit. Which I already knew, but it turns out that he absolutely _loves_ me being in control when we have sex. I mean, that suits me too, since that’s how I prefer it. But all that alpha male BS is exactly that; BS. Oh, he fucks me (obviously), but only a moron would think that the person doing the fucking is always the one in control. And with him it’s so easy, with him I barely have to say what I want or need, he just does it. He just gets me.

I give him a slightly critical look. “These shorts really don’t leave anything to the imagination.”

They really don’t, his erection’s pretty damn obvious, straining at the material. I reach down and slide the wet lycra off of him, hitching up onto my knees so he can kick them off.

“Well, your’s leave everything to the imagination, so I guess we balance one another out.”

His hands are on my ass and he’s sliding the shorts down, intentionally causing them to catch on my erection at the front and tent out. I hiss slightly and then pull the waistband out so he drags my shorts down to my knees. I try not to whimper, already ridiculously hard just from being in the sea with him, from the kissing and the feel of his solid body against mine.

I briefly dismount to kick off the shorts and then scramble back on top of him and lean forward to open the bedside table where I stashed the condoms and lube earlier. He lifts his eyebrows at this.

“How very prepared of you, Newbie. Were you in the scouts?”

“Doesn’t that admit I was a boy?”

“Maybe I meant the girl scouts.”

I mean, my cock was nearly right in his face when I leant over him to get these, but that hasn’t stopped him in the past. He’ll cheerfully say he’s being metaphorical and to stop trying to ruin his fun, Newbie. I absently toy with the condom I’ve just pulled out the packet, trying to ignore my straining erection which is wanting me to hurry up and get down to it.

I’ve been trying to improve my impulse control. It’s not really worked so far and I’m not really a fan of delayed gratification, but it at least means that we sometimes manage some foreplay before I have to start demanding he fuck me. I’ve honestly not really enjoyed foreplay with guys before, but he’s different. _Obviously_ he’s different and I’d like it to last a bit longer this time if I can manage that.

He’s stroking my thigh gently and has apparently picked up the lube when I’ve been caught up thinking about that. He actually doesn’t tend to interrupt my thoughts during sex, I think he realises I sometimes need to center myself a bit. If I looked in danger of going off into a daydream I’m relatively sure he’d notice and prod me. Both literally and metaphorically. Probably quite hard.

“You want me to use this on you?”

Oh, maybe I was thinking too much, he usually doesn’t ask things like that. I consider this; I was thinking of just putting it on him, but I guess that’d add to the foreplay. I like him doing that too, despite how angry and rough he can be, he’s always gentle and considerate with that. I like watching his face when he does it too, the way his eyes cloud over when I gasp when he strokes across my prostate, knowing he’s thinking of how good it’ll feel when his cock replaces his fingers. Oh God, he did that to me about a week ago, me on my back on his bed as he kissed me and fucked me with his fingers until I was begging him to use his cock, nearly sobbing with the pleasure of it, as he kissed and teased me until he _finally_ thrust into me and I genuinely thought I’d pass out from the sensation. Neither of us lasted long that time.

God, I need to stop thinking about previous sex and focus on _this_ sex. I need to get out my head.

“Yeah, that’d be good.” I try to stop idly thinking about things whilst I basically sit on his stomach and lean down to kiss him, reaching back to fondle his erection as I do so. He growls against my lips and I feel him moving his hands, presumably getting some lube onto his fingers.

He breaks the kiss, nipping my lower lip slightly as he does so, then kisses my cheek gently. “Hey, Newb? Will you grab my cell? I left it on the table and I don’t want it going off while we’re doing this.”

His cell never goes off – pretty sure I’m one of the only people who ever messages him – so this is kinda weird. I give him a suspicious look, but I can’t really imagine anything nefarious he could do with my getting his cell for him. Maybe he wants me to take sex selfies or something and is too embarrassed to admit to it.

Actually, that’d be kinda hot.

I give him a slightly long-suffering look and then shift forward to reach over to the bedside table to get his cell. And, of course, that’s when he moves, which was apparently what that whole thing was about, nothing on the damn cell.

He catches me ass and yanks me forward abruptly. I yelp and catch at the headboard, about to angrily tell him off for nearly making me faceplant into it. My angry tirade is cut off when he simultaneously presses his fingers into me and wraps his mouth around my cock.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” I groan at the dual stimulation, my grip on the headboard tightening. I prop myself against it with my elbows and look down at him, his eyes closed as he slides his tongue along the length of me and then sucks hard as he thrusts his fingers into me. He’s using his free hand to gently rock my hips back and forth, impaling me back against his fingers and then thrusting into his mouth.

“Isn’t that kinda salty?” I ask, my voice considerably higher than usual. And kinda pointlessly, since he can’t exactly respond right now. He gives me an indulgent look that clearly says _Newbie, stop asking me questions when your cock’s in my mouth_ and more insistently rocks my hips forward.

“You… you want me to do that?” Seriously, he wants me to fuck his face? I mean, I know he likes me being in control and everything, but that’s not something I was expecting.

He gives a brief nod at this and stops rocking me, keeping his fingers still and lathing his tongue over me a few times, apparently in encouragement.

I swallow, suddenly nervous – which is ridiculous, I’ve been having sex with him for over a month and he’s sucked me off plenty of times, this really isn’t that different – and then carefully thrust into his mouth. I whine quietly as I pull out and suddenly his fingers are pressed up against my prostate, a spike of pure pleasure shooting through my spine. I jerk forward in surprise and he sucks hard.

“Oh… oh fuck…” I groan and then start to roughly move, hanging onto the headboard as I thrust shallowly into his mouth over and over again. The stimulation is insane, the pleasure switching between the sharp, deep pulses from his fingers inside me and the low, building sensation from his mouth on my cock. It’s a constant, ever-switching stimulus that’s making my head spin. I blink the stars out of my eyes and then feel an abrupt jolt low in my stomach and grit my teeth, feeling sweat break out over my body.

“Perry, stop or I’m just going to come all over your face.”

He looks slightly tempted by that, but slides his fingers out of me. I feel briefly cold and bereft without them and reverse back down him. My cock is throbbing and I whine quietly to myself as I search around in the bedding for the condom that I dropped earlier, finding it and tearing open the packet.

“That was amazing,” I tell him, rather redundantly since he just saw me basically wailing from him doing it. He sits up and kisses me hard, hitching us both down the bed so he can lean up against the headboard. I can taste myself in his mouth and twist my tongue smoothly against his, the musky, salty tang stinging at my lips. He’s pulled the condom out of my hands as he kisses me and I can feel him reaching an arm around to pull it on. I’m pretty sure he’s figured out that I’m planning to ride him now, I’ve not exactly made a big mystery around that.

He pulls back and then kisses me softly. “You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs against my lips. I feel a stab of surprise and pleasure at that – he doesn’t usually compliment me, usually points out that clearly he must find me at least _somewhat_ attractive to do the things he does with me – and kiss him back. I can’t think of much to say back (other than “you’re so gorgeous too”, which is lame) so give up on the romance and ask:

“Ready for me to ride you until you scream?”

He smirks. “You sure you’re not going to be screaming?”

We probably both will be, he’s not exactly loud, he’s very much a stern and silent type during sex, but when he gets close he seems to drop his occasional breathy grunts and cries out just like any other normal human. Or android or whatever he is.

I roll my eyes and then abruptly move back, rear up onto my knees and slide myself onto him. He grunts.

Fuck, I can _never_ get enough of this, the feel of him inside me. He’s big, his cock long and thick, but it’s not necessarily that, it’s not like I’ve not felt that before. It’s something else, he just fits so perfectly and sometimes I think I’ll go crazy if I can’t have him, that I need him intrinsically like plants need sunlight. The feel of him inside me, pressed against him, the weird, stupid conversations that we have that sound so bitchy and nasty but somehow aren’t. The way he makes me feel beautiful and desirable and without any sort of shame or self-consciousness.

The way he’s so careful to not be too romantic, too loving, too caring, unless I need it. And the way he is when I need it. Because it’s too much when I don’t need it and I still can’t deal with that.

I move to try to chase the thoughts away, lift myself to slide along the hot wet length of him and then sink down on him again. He groans, wrapping his hands around my hips and watching me, eyes large and somehow overwhelmed.

The way he doesn’t even mind that I still can’t tell him that I love him, even though we both know it.

God, stop that, just _move_. I growl slightly to myself and see the corresponding spark of arousal in him as I start to roughly ride him, splaying my hands out flat on his abs and sharply jerking myself up and down on his cock. Even with his hands on my hips steadying me, even as he thrusts up into me as I keep pounding against him, it’s not enough. My thighs are burning, I’ve been riding him for about ten minutes now and it’s amazing, it feels _amazing_ , but it’s not enough. He’s gasping sharply at the stimulation and I would love to just keep going until he comes but I need more. I need him pinning me in place, I need him to be brutal, I need him to fuck me until I can’t think any more, until I’m just a pulsing, screaming, twitching white-hot sensation.

“No… no…” I pant out, surprised at how breathless I sound. “I need… fuck, I need you on me, I need you to fuck me as hard as you can, I need it, I _need_ it please, I need-“

I’m pretty sure most people would ask why when this position is working perfectly well and I’m still jerkily grinding myself against him, but he doesn’t. He just gently hold my hips so he can pull out and then easily flips us over (which, of course, he could have done at any point up until now but hasn’t). He grabs my legs, pulling my ankles up over his shoulders and then thrusts into me. I buck hard against him, moaning and grabbing at the headboard to steady myself.

“Please, Perry, please, as hard as you can, I need it like that,” I moan out. I’m never this brazen, never this honest, but he’s different, he doesn’t judge me for that. God I love this with him, I love hi-

He thankfully starts to fuck into me at a ferocious pace and stops that thought. I cry out sharply and start to repeatedly wail out encouragement, whatever’s on my mind.

“Yes… oh yeah, oh yeah, like that… oh _God_ , yes… oh Perry… oh God, yes, fuck me like this, fuck me as hard as you can… please… oh please… oh, please, oh yes, oh God, oh Perry…”

I can’t seem to stop that and I’m panting out everything I’m thinking, barely even registering what I’m saying and likely how humiliating it is, telling him how desperate I am for him. The headboard is slamming repeatedly against the wall, I’m practically screaming and he’s unravelling as well, brokenly panting out: “oh, you feel so good, fuck, you feel so good JD, you’re fucking _perfect_ Newbie, come on”.

It’s all getting too much, it’s overwhelming and I reach down and start to frantically jerk myself off, suddenly pulsing hard and tensing around him as I unexpectedly orgasm after a couple of strokes. His grip tightens on my legs as I cry out sharply and spatter semen all up my stomach and chest.

“Oh _God,_ oh, good boy JD, oh fuck, oh yes.”

His pace becomes faster and less controlled as he chases after me, making my orgasm spike unexpectedly as he hammers into me and then starts to orgasm, panting harshly from the stimulation.

Everything feels heavy and fuggy and sated. I feel him pull out and collapse onto the bed next to me, panting heavily. Eventually he apparently gets enough air back into his lungs to point out:

“It was definitely you screaming this time, not me.”

Fair point.

\- - - - -

I’m slightly worried that I’ve managed to literally fuck Newbie’s brain out, since he seems to have gone slightly comatose, but I think he’s just over-stimulated. I stagger upright and go into the en suite to flush the rubber, nearly walking into the sink because my head’s still spinning. That was very… intense.

I splash some water into my face and then go and check whether he’s showing any signs of sentience yet. He’s still sprawled bonelessly on the bed, liberally splashed with ejaculate. I go and sit next to him and his eyelashes flutter.

“Fucking hell,” he says.

“Yeah,” I agree.

Apparently unable the think of much else to say he says: “fucking… hell…” again. I make another noise of agreement and he sits up.

“I’ve gone all light-headed.”

“You girl,” I say mildly, despite having just experienced the same sensation.

“I’m gonna shower… can’t get this all over the bedsheets…” he gestures down at the mess on himself. I smirk.

“I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”

“Ugh, and I thought our job could be gross sometimes.”

He gets up and moves stiffly over to the en suite. “You alright?” I check.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just still a bit… spinny…”

“Don’t faint in the shower, I don’t want to have to explain that in an ER.”

He snorts. I decide I should make sure that doesn’t happen by joining him in the en suite.

\- - - - -

Later that night – after I had sex with him again in the shower – I’m holding Newbie against me as he sleeps and thinking about the sex.

It’s not just the physical act of it and how intense it was – although, Jesus, it really was – it’s more that one moment that my thoughts keep spiralling back to. That moment as he was on his back and apparently blurting out every little thing on his mind, about how good it felt, telling me to fuck him harder, harder, as hard as I could. When, amongst all that, when he’d arched his back against me and then reached down to finish himself off, when he sobbed out that he loved me.

I kiss his hair softly and wonder if he’d still have those little blocks when he tries to say it if he knew he quite often said it during sex.

I nuzzle against him and try to pretend I don’t have an enormous shit-eating grin on my face.

\- - - - -

As expected, Newbie has apparently tried to pile everything in the buffet onto his plate. I look at it with misgiving.

“I’m pretty sure pancakes, waffles and eggs shouldn’t all go together on one plate.”

“But it all looked so good and I couldn’t decide which to have.”

He apparently eats like he has sex, with absolutely no impulse control or ability to delay any gratification. I roll my eyes and eat the granola in front of me. He’s looking at it critically.

“That looks like kitty litter.”

“JD, you’re a _doctor_ and you’re eating chocolate on your breakfast. I’m ignoring this since it would be too exhausting to try to get you to change that and you might have a tantrum. And I used up all of my energy on you last night.”

“And this morning,” he points out.

“Yes, and this morning. Let me eat my breakfast in peace without Newbie of the glass house throwing bricks at it, alright?”

He grumbles to himself quietly and then goes back to fiddling with his cell whilst he shovels carbs and sugar into himself. I read the sports section of the paper I picked up on the way into the breakfast room and occasionally glance around at the other occupants, trying to ignore my lover eating something that will likely result in him needing stents in a couple decades.

It’s quite quiet here – unsurprising, I guess, since it’s fall. Also, we’re in relatively early, we ended up exhausting one another and falling asleep at about nine, tangled up together. I was woken at some godawful time by Newbie trying to squirm out from where he was trapped underneath me, a slightly panicked litany of “wake up, wake up, I need to pee so bad” from him.

It gave me the opportunity to check behind the bed to confirm we hadn’t dented the wall with the headboard the night before. And then trying to dent it again when he came back from the en suite.

He interrupts my thoughts with a slightly sulky comment: “Turk hasn’t tried to find out where I am.”

I flick the page over and drink my orange juice, the only slightly sweet thing that should be consumed at breakfast. “I thought you were pissed off at him always trying to find out what was going on with us.”

“I was… I mean, I am. Just he’s suddenly stopped, it’s weird.”

I shrug. “Maybe he’s busy. You said you thought he might have gone somewhere with Carla, right?”

There’s a pause and I glance up at him. Newbie’s looking worried. “What if something’s happened to him?”

“Newbie, if something had happened to him then you’d know. They always call the wife if there’s a problem.”

To be honest, I’d be very surprised if Newbie isn’t down as Gandhi’s next of kin, despite his having Carla and an actual biological family. And Carla would absolutely have told him if there was a problem. Gandhi’s probably just busy on shift or has lost his cell or something moronic like that. Or maybe both and it’s currently inside some poor bastard with some neurotic Newbie messages occasionally vibrating against their colon.

“I guess…” he’s still looking slightly concerned and I roll my eyes.

“Newbie, he’ll be fine. Maybe Carla told him to stop bothering you about it, although Lord knows she’s not one to preach on people being nosy. We both have cell reception here, we’d have been told if there was a problem with either of them.”

“Yeah…” he shoves his plate away and drinks some coffee (and, my God, he ate _all_ of that?). “I feel bad about it, y’know.”

I assume he means Gandhi, not just eating his entire calorific allowance for breakfast. I shrug again, I don’t really care.

“I tried to tell him.”

I stop reading the paper and look over at him in surprise. “You tried to tell him?”

“Yeah.”

“About us?”

“Yeah, last week.”

I smell bullshit. “How exactly did you phrase that?”

“Um… well, I said I like you to him.”

I lift an eyebrow. “You said you like me to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Newbie, that is _not_ telling him.”

“I mean… I said I _like_ you, not that I like you.”

I blink at his imbecility and he pulls a face. “I know it’s not a big declaration or anything, just it seemed the best way to say it at the time. He didn’t get it. He _never_ doesn’t get what I mean.”

“Maybe he’s not nuanced enough to tell the difference between like and _like_.” I respond drily.

I swear, I feel like I’m dating a grade schooler sometimes.

\- - - - -

Once Perry has finished eating his crunchy, dry bowl of sawdust we start to wander out of the breakfast room. Perry’s trailing behind me and still absently flicking through the paper he was reading, apparently focused on the sports pages but still aware enough to not walk into the walls. Which is a shame really, that would be quite funny.

I briefly go into a daydream about him walking into walls and other people and then yelling at them in fury for getting in his way, but am rudely pulled out of it.

I’d love to say I was ironically pulled out of my daydream by walking into someone or a wall. But I wasn’t. I mean, I’d love to say I was pulled out of the daydream by just about anything else compared to what actually _did_ jerk me back to reality.

Briefly I desperately hope that I’m just an enormous racist and actually that’s just another bald black guy and his Latino partner. And that the guy has seen _another_ JD and is looking delighted and yelling at him. And he’s standing right behind me.

“Hey Turk.”

\- - - - -

I glance over the edge of the football round up when I hear the yell of “JD!” and Newbie’s hopeless-sounding response. It sounds like someone kicked him.

Gandhi doesn’t seem to have noticed me, apparently the sort of moron a spy could hide from by sitting on a bench with a newspaper and watching him through eye holes. He’s focused entirely on Newbie. Carla looks mildly annoyed, probably hoping to get Gandhi to herself on a mini-break and then becoming exasperated at finding the object of his desires in the breakfast room.

“Dude! Did you get that email too? Isn’t this place _sweet_?”

“Oh… oh, yeah, I got the offer too.” Newbie’s looking like he would love the ground to swallow him up right now and I can see him suddenly realizing that if he and I got the offer then of course the rest of the staff at Sacred Heart would have done too.

I can’t just keep standing around hiding behind a paper, it looks insanely suspicious. I drop it down and join them, keeping a distance from Newbie and trying my best to look like he’s nothing to do with me. Carla looks confused, likely because she knows I’m not the type to just go to some beach vacation on my own and that Jordan and my relationship recently hit the ‘terminally combusted’ status.

Gandhi apparently finally recognizes me. “Doctor Cox! You’re here too! This place is really getting Sacred Heart’s dollars, amiright? Who d’you think we’ll see next?”

I honestly can’t think of anything to reply to this with, but Gandhi doesn’t seem to notice my lack of a smart retort and rounds on Newbie again. I glance over to see Carla looking at me with a slight frown on her face, like I’m a jigsaw puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit where she expected it to.

“J-Dog! Are you here with that girl you’ve been seeing?”

Newbie flushes suddenly, an automatic reaction, and I see Gandhi pick up on it and smirk. Newbie looks around wildly, apparently trying to decide whether he should lie and point out some random girl or not.

“I… I…” he gives me a helpless look, so visibly miserable that I automatically take a step towards him and then have to stop myself again.

I see Carla immediately understand what’s going on; unsurprising really, she’s a smart one and she knows I’m bi and likely has a pretty good idea about Newbie, no matter how much he claims no one could possibly guess he likes guys. She reaches out to take Gandhi’s shoulder.

“Turk, they’re not-“

“Seriously man, where is she? You can’t keep hiding her, she’s literally on the premises! You’ve never kept something from me for this long.”

Newbie’s shaking his head. I see him catch Carla’s eye and she gives him a sympathetic look.

“Baby, let’s stop bothering them and-“

“Bothering _who_? Aren’t you curious?”

I see Carla hesitate, obviously not wanting to out us without our permission. I feel a new spike of respect for her and wish she wasn’t with such a goddamn idiot.

“Turk.” To my surprise it’s Newbie who’s answering. “Leave it. Please.”

“What the hell? Seriously man, what is it? What, is she not a looker?” Gandhi’s smirking, an ugly look on him. “Are you ashamed of-?”

I’m shocked when Newbie suddenly darts sideways and grabs my hand before he furiously hisses out: “ _No, I’m not ashamed_.”

I think I just stopped breathing. I think Gandhi did too.

Gandhi recovers before I do.

“You and _him_?”

“Yeah, Turk.”

“ _He’s_ the girl?”

I frown at how clumsily that’s been put, but bite my tongue.

“I mean, obviously he’s not a girl…” Newbie’s looking terrified and I’m surprized that Gandhi is still pursuing this when it’s clearly affecting JD so badly. “But yeah, we’ve been… seeing each other, we’re… uh… we’re…” he seems lost for words for a moment and then shrugs. “We’re together.”

It sounds almost nonchalant, but his grip on my hand has become painfully tight, the stress and anxiety apparently manifesting in an attempt to crush my phalanges.

Newbie’s occasionally commented on how he didn’t think Gandhi would take the news of us well – or, really, the news of his sexuality all that well, sometimes referring to vague college references that imply Gandhi isn’t exactly an ally. I’ve been assuming that he’s just being neurotic, that Gandhi’s obvious ridiculous levels of affection for Newbie wouldn’t be shaken all that much by the realization that his wife swings both ways. I’ve been assuming the college anecdotes just show that Gandhi’s a bit of a suggestable meat head.

Unfortunately, for once it looks like Newbie’s right and I’ve been horribly wrong.

“You’re _gay_?”

He says it with the same inflection you’d expect with “you’re a cannibal?” or “you’re a Republican?”.

Carla now seems determined to try to drag Gandhi away, but he’s ignoring her. Newbie shakes his head, eyes wide. “No, obviously not, I like girls too, just I like-“

“And _him_?” Gandhi’s pointing at me, a look of disgust on his face. “Like you wanting to screw guys isn’t sick enough, you want someone like him?”

Newbie’s gone pale. Interestingly, so has Carla. She’s stopped trying to drag Gandhi away and is looking at him in shock, apparently not realizing quite where he was on the old homophobia scale.

“It’s… it’s not sick,” Newbie sounds like he’s about to throw up, but there’s a determined expression on his face. I feel a spike of pride in him, he’s usually such a pushover and taking a stand like this is completely out of his comfort zone. “Look, Turk, I’m sorry I’ve been keeping it from you, but I pretty much thought you’d react like this and-“

“Damn right I would. You know how I feel about this kind of shit, JD. Jesus, you know I’m not comfortable around this and I think it’s wrong.”

Newbie’s looking at his feet and clearly trying to hold back tears. I see Carla take a step towards him, apparently to comfort him, shooting a look of pure venom at Gandhi. He apparently notices this and then looks at both of them, clearly angry.

“ _What?_ Look baby, sorry I’m not happy to find out that JD’s some unnatural homo, it’s just-“

That’s what finally gets me to act. It’s too close to what Newbie’s piece of shit step-father said to him and I can literally see when he hears that and his heart breaks. The look of pain on his face is so intense that it briefly hurts for me to breathe.

He just fucking _bared his soul,_ just did something that took a vast amount of courage for him and that’s how his ‘best friend’ responds? I don’t give a fuck about religion, I don’t give a fuck about what people are ‘comfortable’ with if it has no impact on them, all of that’s bullshit used by assholes to justify their intolerance. There’s no excuses.

And weirdly, it’s not that he’s an intolerant, bigoted, homophobic asshole that makes me do it. That would all be offensive to me, but it’s not that. It’s that he just hurt Newbie, that Newbie was doing so well and he said that to him. That’s what’s inexcusable to me, not the shitty attitude.

I don’t care that doctors aren’t supposed to do harm. I let go of Newbie’s hand as his face crumples, stalks over to Gandhi, punch him in the face hard enough to drop him to the floor like a sack of homophonic potatoes and then spin around, grab Newbie and drag him out of there with me, muttering to ignore it and not think about it, sweetheart.

Carla’s trailing after us and apologizing profusely, like Gandhi’s some sort of overgrown small-minded child. I glare at her, but she ignores me because she’s focused entirely on Newbie. I glance down at him and feel like I’m the one who’s just been punched, not Gandhi.

Tears are streaming down his face. He’s trying very hard to stop them, trying not to sob, but he is – unfortunately – a crier. I wrap my arm tighter around him.

“He didn’t mean it, Bambi.”

Newbie makes an awful scoffing noise and then unexpectedly buries his face in my shirt. I stroke his hair gently and force myself to stay there, since part of me is extremely tempted to return to the breakfast room and very violently murder Gandhi.

“Honestly JD, he’s just surprised. He’s not… he’s not really like that.”

I’m not sure if she’s saying that for Newbie’s sake or her own.

“He doesn’t need to hear shit like that from someone he thinks is his friend, he’s already been through enough.”

I growl it out and am surprised at how unsteady my voice sounds. Newbie’s still shaking against me and I decide to ignore the fact that Carla’s there and kiss his hair, his face still hidden from view.

Carla doesn’t say anything, either horrified by the entire situation or shocked speechless at seeing me making an affectionate gesture. Newbie pauses for a second and then re-emerges from my shirt, having apparently centered himself enough to stop crying. His eyes are still red and he still looks completely crushed.

“Carla, you should probably go check on Turk. Perry probably just broke his nose.”

“JD, I-“

He looks at me. “Do you mind if I crash at your place tonight?”

“You don’t need to ask, you know that you can.”

Newbie stiffly turns and walks off. Carla looks distraught and takes a step to follow him, but I shake my head at her.

“Don’t. You can’t do anything at the minute. Go look after that moron and if anyone says anything about suing me then I’ll punch him again.” And enjoy it.

“I’ll bring some of his stuff over to your place later.”

I feel an unexpected pulse of gratitude at that, give her a slight smile and then go off in pursuit of Newbie. As I catch up with him I think: _That didn’t go well_.

As understatements go, it probably takes the title of the biggest one of the goddamn year.

**Author's Note:**

> Right, I *tried* to end this on a more positive note, but I couldn't really. My original plan had Perry punching Turk and then thinking 'that didn't go well', but the humour felt rather incongruous considering what had just happened. Carla trying to reassure JD and him managing to pull himself together both felt more positive, but they're not exactly happy. Apparently I can't just write fluff, I have to balance it out with a massive whack of angst at the end.
> 
> So, yes, I'll definitely be writing more in the future, I'm not planning on leaving it there. Also, hey, I didn't make Carla the bad guy in this one. I did it to Turk instead, oops. However, I did sort of intentionally set this up by JD's little comments in 'My Broken Oath' about it - I'm not sure I really think that Turk in the series would react like this, but he does sometimes come across as a bit narrow-minded. And he's been surprised and was so sure JD was with a girl. None of which makes it excusable, but meh *shrugs*
> 
> The courageous stand of the title can either be read as JD at the end of this or Perry basically being a bit of a rock for him all the way through. God, I love protective Perry...
> 
> Also, once again; JD gets wet. JD never stays dry in my fiction.


End file.
